


Unknowing the Known

by dagas isa (dagas_isa)



Series: Wind's Cage [1]
Category: In Nomine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 15:24:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7273531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dagas_isa/pseuds/dagas%20isa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a Cherub of Knowledge finds a new Archangel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unknowing the Known

Neivira woke up and knew something was wrong.

The alcove in the library where she kept her heart...wasn’t dark exactly. No place in Heaven truly was unless it was meant to be that way, but dimmer than it should have been. Empty. She searched for an explanation, and had none. Had it been this way, the last time she stood here? She didn’t know.

There should be friends here. Fellow scholars. She should have more thoughts. She used to, not very long ago, she’s sure. She shook her mane and trotted through the library, checking each alcove in turn. Most empty. Lots of broken glass. That meant something, she was sure. If only her mind would tell her.

The few people who remained in the hall stayed still. She had been still too, before she woke up. If she could only figure how long...or what happened. She should have memories. More of them. 

She reached out for her attuned and found...nothing. No dissonance--which would have told her something--but nothing at all. Just an empty spot where she should have...something, no, someone...to protect. As though. As though...something. That meant something, too. There must have been a reason. But she had no explanations. Not for any of these too vague somethings.

She looked for her Lady. If anyone would have an explanation, it would be her. Raphael always had explanations, or a way for someone to find one themselves. At least...if Neivira’s memory served, which it did. This time. Barely.

Up and down each corridor, Neivira searched, almost entirely by instinct. Each lecture hall stood empty. She was certain...almost certain some of these rooms meant something to her. If only she knew what.

When she found someone who moved and spoke and blinked, Neivira could cry. It was an Elohite, like her Lady, but not her Lady. Someone else. Neivira asked where her--their(?)--Lady was.

The Elohite told her. Raphael died. All her scholars scattered, died, fell. Scattered to Destiny, Lightning, Revelation, others.  And then a question. Where would she go?

Neivira ran. She didn’t know where to. She didn’t know much of anything anymore. Just...that she needed to be somewhere else.

\--

Running taught her new things, or maybe just showed her what she always knew and never had the opportunity to appreciate. Like how big Heaven was. Infinite, really.  She could run for eternity and never see everything it had to offer. And that was before going to any of the other planes. The universe was full of places to run, and therefore places to see.

She had passed Yves’ Library, the Halls of Progress, even Litheroy’s Abbey. Most of her friends had stopped here when they left their Lady--her Lady. Neivira could stop there, too. Except, she knew too little and hurt too much for those to be the right places. At least not until she could remember more. Better then, to keep running. She knew that much.

She ran through the rest of Heaven--the Eternal City, the Bazaar, the Glade, the Savannah--places she must have been aware of, but hadn’t really been at least not that her tattered mind could identify. Not so many of her fellows here. Fewer, it seemed, the more she went out. She learned. Each place would teach her to be something new  if she stopped. Here, and she’d be a soldier. There, a merchant. Over there a gardener. And way out there, she could renounce humanity for a different kind of knowing. 

Still she kept running through the great forest of the Groves where the sounds of weapon on weapon grounded her. There had been a battle. Raphael died then. She had fought, lost badly, drew a human shape over her, and died. But not permanently. Running taught her that too: only some deaths were permanent. She still lived.

She kept running. Up the trees,  where it was even easier, with the wind pushing against her back and past her wings.  She liked the feel of it. Liked the sounds it made when it passed through leaves or rushed by her ears, almost like someone speaking to her. Almost like, if she listened, maybe she’d understand it.  

And she swore she heard a laugh from behind--no in front over--no--above her. No, in motion around her. Always in motion. That made more sense than most things did.

_Almost think you were an Ofanite with the way you’ve been running. I approve._ _Keeps things from becoming stagnant. If only more people understood that._

That was the wind speaking, and she swore it laughed as it did, a hearty one as unlike Raphael as a raven was a writing desk. (that was a meaningless scrap of her old life, still clinging to her) There was no reason to stop even with the wind surrounding her, so Neivira didn’t. Instead she stretched out into a smooth gallop across the sky.

_ I’d like to offer you some help, kiddo. Some help and a job. I’ll get you cleaned up, and you’ll help others ride the whirlwind. No stopping required. _

And Neivira knew her answer.  _ Yes. _

And her new Archangel carried her on a gust of wind, wrapped tight around her, sweeping out the shards of her old self. Her old attunement, the one that passed her attuned’s knowledge on to her, disappeared, and the new one settled in, a knowledge that her attuned would ride with her through whatever storms they’d encounter. And oh, the storms they would see together. 

Her new Heart sat on a branch just below her, glowing much more softly than the one she woke up at. But underneath the glass surface, a gust of wind swirled and played. It called to her, and she liked it. 

_ Clean out the old. Become the new. Never stop moving. _

She spread her wings and let it carry her downward in spirals through the air. And when she landed on the branch, she flew upwards to go again. Not stopping, never stopping, but with a direction now. That hearty laugh surrounded her again.

_ You’ll do just fine. Oh, and one more thing, just to help you go a little quicker. _

The wind passed through her again, this time leaving something behind. And she could think again. Not the same patterns as before, but a new one. And then the wind rushed ahead, leaving behind a more relaxed breeze. She let her wings catch and felt the air move across each feather, and considered her next direction.

Maybe she’d go to Yves’s Library to see what had been collected about the battle against Legion. Talk to some old friends, maintaining their same patterns under a new Archangel (and suddenly, that seemed a terrible thing, poor angels). See about borrowing some books, and catch up on what really happened. There’d be procedures to do that, though she didn’t know what those were exactly anymore. But sure as anything else, she knew there’d be a way around those procedures too. And wouldn’t that be fun?

Later, though, when the wind passed through that way.


End file.
